The Breaking Point
by wideopeneyes
Summary: Gippal has had it with waiting for Rikku to grow up and 'discover' him. But he's never been particularly subtle, and Rikku's going to have a hard time coping with the sudden change in her old friend.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is rated Mature for a reason. Absolutely do not continue if you are not of legal age to do so._

_- -_

Gippal considered himself a patient man. After all, he'd been waiting _years_ for Rikku to grow up and notice him. He'd made a promise to himself – more like a silent promise to her – that he'd give her all the time she needed to get used to him, that he'd wait for her to grow up a little before introducing the idea of _them_, but lately he was doubting he'd be able even to give her until her eighteenth birthday.

Lately, that little thought had become his mantra, the phrase '_she's not even eighteen_' playing in his head whenever she decided to swing by Djose in one of her many and varied sinfully revealing outfits. Every time she came near it felt like he was just _seconds_ away from jumping her. And she seemed to have no idea at all that every little thing she did brought her one step closer to unleashing a demon bent on seduction.

Just now he was trying _so hard_ not to notice that she was flittering about his living room in what looked like a bikini made of dental floss and a skirt that revealed far more than it covered. Like he _needed_ to see all that tanned skin, those long legs, and those slim hips displayed so enticingly. Every time she came near, he got harder than steel and she had _no idea_.

"Anyway," she was saying, "I think Paine's got a boyfriend. It's funny, because when I told her how jealous I was, you know, since I'm the only one of us girls left without a boyfriend, she said she always thought _we_ were an item." She grinned. "Isn't that _funny_?"

Hilarious. "So what did you tell her?" He jerked off his boots, flinging them towards the kitchen. He needed to do something with his hands to keep from throttling her. Or sliding his fingers into her hair and bringing her mouth to his like he'd been imagining for the last few hours.

"Oh, you know." She leaned forward to snatch a ginger cookie off the plate and he admired the smooth slope of her stomach. His fingers itched to touch her. "I told her that she shouldn't take you too seriously."

"What'd she say to that?" He knew Paine had at least some inkling of where his affections lay. He'd done enough talking about Rikku back in the Crimson Squad.

"She just gave me one of those looks," she paused to lick the crumbs off her fingertips, and Gippal drew in a sharp breath. She was going to _kill_ him. "You know those looks of hers. And she said something like, 'well, _he's_ of the idea that you belong to _him_'. How weird is that? Like you could own people. I think I would _know_ if I _belonged_ to anyone." She reached for another cookie.

He'd reached the breaking point. He could _feel_ his control snap, and as though it were a thin string stretched taut, it just exploded. His hand reached out for hers, catching her fingers just before she reached the platter. She drew her hand back from his, confused. Rikku didn't know much about men – Gippal had made sure of that – but she _did_ recognize the look of a predator when she saw one, and she suddenly felt uncomfortably like a helpless little bunny in the presence of Lupine.

For a moment he warred with himself. '_She's still seventeen,' _he told himself, _'it's still two weeks until her birthday. Give her time'_. But he couldn't. And he knew it. She had to know _now_. He was so, so tired of fighting it. Besides, she could still have as much time as she needed. He was just no longer inclined to give her _space_, as well.

"There was never a time when you _didn't_ belong to me," he said softly, slowly. It wouldn't do to panic her. "Just a time when you didn't know that you did."

Her heart leapt into her throat. He started towards her, deftly unfastening the buttons of his shirt. She took a faltering step backwards, more than a little confused.

"You're…you're acting really strange," Rikku said. "Are you feeling okay? I can get you some aspirin. Maybe an icepack?"

"I'm fine," he said. "I think it's time we got this out of the way, don't you?"

"Got _what_ out of the way?" Her voice went high and tinny. "I didn't even know there was anything _to_ get out of the way!"

"You're the only one, then," he laughed softly. "I don't think there's a man alive who doesn't know you're my girl. Or if there is, they learn pretty quick. Careful, there." His warning came just a bit too late, and she tripped over his discarded boots. She stumbled backwards, and he shot forward to grab her arm, righting her. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." She backed a bit away, wanting a little space between them. Unfortunately, for every step she took away, he took one towards her. He was approaching steadily, but was very careful to move slowly so as not to alarm her.

"You don't have to run away, you know," he chided gently. "I'm only going to kiss you."

Her knees trembled alarmingly. He _couldn't_ be serious. She had to distract him, keep talking.

"Okay, so you're saying you've warned everyone in Bikanel off me because somehow you have gotten it into your head that we're an item?"

"Close," he said. Her back hit the wall, and her moment of surprise gave him the opportunity he needed to jump forward, blocking her instinctive escape. "More like everyone in _Spira_. And, while we are not yet an item, I have confidence that you'll see reason sooner or later."

"_Reason_?" She gasped, shoving at his chest angrily. He didn't budge. Not one bit. When had _that_ happened? She'd _always_ been able to shove him and make him stumble, if only a little. Had it all been a lie, a little trick designed to make her feel safer around him, in control? Had it all really been in his hands the entire time? Ill at ease, she worried her bottom lip, twisting her fingers.

"Calm down." His voice was warm, mildly amused. "I can hear your heart racing. Don't be afraid of me, honey. You know I'd never hurt you."

She wasn't afraid of Gippal; could _never_ be afraid of him. She _was_, however, wary of this strange man who looked like him, smelled like him, spoke with _his_ voice, but called her _honey_, and wanted to _kiss_ her.

"Look, can't we discuss this later?" She bit her lip, striving to keep her voice at its normal pitch. "It's getting late. I should be getting back to Bikanel. I'm gonna miss the ferry."

"I'm not an idiot, Cid's girl." Now he _was_ laughing. She _hated_ being laughed at. "I know you'll never come back. I've put this off for too long, already. It's time we had a good, long talk."

"I don't _want_ to! I don't want anything to change!" She sounded petulant, childish. His mouth twitched up into that cocky grin, and he bent closer, closing the space between them. One of his legs pushed between both of hers, forcing her up the wall, riding his thigh. She couldn't keep her balance, not with her toes off the floor, hating that she had to grab his shoulders to keep from pitching forward against his chest.

"You can't do this," she gasped, backing away from his descending lips. There was only so far she could go, and his lips touched her forehead first, slowly kissing his way down her face. She turned her head to the side, determined to stop him, but he was undeterred. His lips found the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she shivered. His warm breath stirred the hair at the nape of her neck, and his leg moved rhythmically between hers, pushing insistently against her crotch.

"Brother…Brother will _kill_ you." Her voice was a little breathier than she'd like, but she felt the threat came off appropriately.

"He's welcome to try," he said. "Hell, he _did_ try, once, when you were fifteen and he decided he didn't like the way I was looking at you."

She was surprised. "What happened?" She forgot for a moment that she was supposed to be pushing him away, and turned to face him. But he didn't, taking the opportunity to press his lips to hers, just for a moment before she turned her face away again.

"He tried to jump me from behind." He laughed at the memory. "You remember that day he came home telling this big heroic story of the Lupine that he fended off?" She nodded. "There was no Lupine. Just me. He thought he could beat the tar out of me and I ended up taking him, even though he had two years and forty pounds on me. So you see," he finished, nipping at her earlobe, breathing the last words into her ear, "I am not easily discouraged. I've been waiting for you for a long time. I've even spoken with your father."

"You talked with _Pops_? About _me_?" She was incredulous.

"Yeah," he said. "Once he figured out that I was not going to be turned away with threats of bodily harm, he said I could have you if I could get you and if I could provide for you."

"I don't _need_ anyone to provide for me." She scowled. He ground his thigh against her, making her gasp, proving once again that although he allowed her to keep her illusions of being in control, _he_ was really calling the shots. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and he felt a shudder ripple through her. "You gotta stop that," she gasped.

"Why? Are you getting excited?" He enjoyed teasing her, especially when she was so _beautiful_ in a fit of temper.

"I am _not_." She rose to the bait wonderfully, tone clipped and irritated.

She hoped he couldn't see her hardened nipples through the fabric of her bikini top.

"Is that so?" His hand slid along her thigh, under the hem of her tiny skirt. She gasped a feeble protest, but he was already slipping his fingers beneath her bikini bottoms, skimming over slick flesh. "Yes," he hissed at her ear, feeling her legs trembling against his invading fingers. "I _knew_ it."

She was clutching his shoulders desperately now, her head resting against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. There was no need to box her in any longer, so he tugged the string securing her top with his free hand, pulling it open, baring her high, firm breasts. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, watching tiny goosebumps rise on her warm skin.

She couldn't quite contain the little moan that rose in her throat, and he coaxed another out with smooth, delicate strokes and soft kisses. He wanted her to feel cherished, adored, loved. He wanted her to lie awake at night thinking about this. More than anything, he wanted her to want it again and again and again. With him.

She shivered, eyes closing on a little sigh. She wasn't sure how he'd done it, but her body was throbbing and her blood was singing in her veins. It was all she could do to savor each sensation, every little bit of pleasure his skilled hands meted out. Vaguely, she was aware of his lips on her arched throat, her shoulder, and finally on the up-thrust peak of her breast. The suction was hot and moist and hard, and she could feel it all the way down to the pool of heat in her belly.

"Rikku." She wouldn't open her eyes, concentrating on the pressure of his fingers at her breasts, his knee moving between her legs. "Honey, look at me." Her eyes fluttered briefly. He nipped her shoulder. "Kiss me, and I'll let you come," he said.

It sounded like a fair trade to her. She turned her face up to his, and his lips touched hers, gentle and warm. Her mouth yielded to the soft pressure of his, and his tongue stroked hers, exploring. His fingers thrust inside her, mimicking the movements of his tongue in her mouth. Her hips arched against his hand, and his thumb rubbed across her clit. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he swallowed her little cry. She pulsed around his fingers, thighs squeezing him, eyes shut tightly, entire body tensed. It was like touching the sun. She might've screamed. She almost cried. Either way, she was glad of his leg between hers, supporting her, or she was sure she would have fallen. Awareness came back slowly, and she realized he was speaking.

"…that one day a month ago, remember? You wore that tiny little bikini, and you'll never know how close I was to this. God, I wanted to bend you over the sofa and fuck you until you screamed for me." His words ended on a barely-smothered groan, and his arms tightened around her.

His hips touched hers, and she could feel the hardness of him through his pants. He was still aroused.

"Does it…hurt?" she asked hesitantly, even as little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her. He took her hand, guiding it down to the front of his pants, stroking her fingers up and down the length of him. His breath hissed out, and his teeth were clenched. He looked like he was in agony.

"I don't wanna hurt you." She tried to tug her hand free.

"It doesn't hurt," he assured her. He let go of her hand, but she kept contact for a few moments.

"God, I love it when you touch me," he whispered. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he nuzzled her shoulder.

"Really?"

"Yeah," laughter rumbled in his throat. "You can touch me anytime you want, honey. I'll let you satisfy your curiosity with me."

Her cheeks burned. "I'm not curious," she insisted.

"Yeah, you are." He was laughing _again_.

"How would _you _know?"

"You've still got your hand on me."

She drew it away, embarrassed.

"Hey, don't look like that," he protested. "I just said you could touch me."

"I don't want to, now!" she snapped. He laughed, brushing a careless kiss over her mouth.

"Can you stand on your own, kid?"

"I always could!" She shoved at his shoulders, and he carefully eased her back down to the ground. She shifted around him, frowning. "I'm going back to Bikanel," she announced.

"Okay." He grinned, amused at her antics, satisfied with their relationship for the first time in years. She couldn't react to him the way she had if she didn't feel _something_ for him. "Come back soon, though, or you won't get your birthday present." He tapped her nose fondly as he walked by her on his way to his workshop.

She stared after him for a few seconds, more confused than ever. How could he just up and leave as if they'd been having nothing more than a casual conversation? She was tempted to follow him out to his workshop to throw a wrench at his big, fat head. Finally, seething with temper and frustration, she left for Bikanel.

- -

Rikku _really _resented Cid's implication that she was hiding out in Bikanel. Because it wasn't true. She _wasn't_ hiding out. She didn't need to hide from Gippal. It was just that she hadn't felt much like leaving lately. Wasn't a girl allowed a little time to herself without being called a coward? And what was the deal with Pops offering her up to whatever guy happened to come along, anyway?

"Hey, kid."

She shrieked in surprise, falling backwards off her bed, totally unprepared to hear Gippal's voice from directly behind her.

"Whoa, spastic much?" He laughed as she pulled herself off the floor. She was relieved to find it wasn't the man himself, just his face in the commsphere across the room.

"How'd you do that? I didn't _answer_ it," she protested, rubbing her aching backside.

"Hacked the network. I figured you wouldn't answer if I gave you a choice. Besides, you _love_ surprises." He grinned, looking entirely too self-satisfied.

"What do you want, anyway?" She grumbled, resisting the urge to readjust her nightshirt, which did not cover nearly enough. She knew he was looking, but she didn't want him to know that she knew he was looking.

"You should come over tonight," he said, easing back in his chair casually. She snorted.

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

"We can make out some more. I'll let you put your hands down my pants." He grinned.

"Tempting," she said sarcastically, "but no." She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering how he could talk about _making out_ so casually?

"Then I'll come to you." His voice had dropped an octave.

"I won't let you in," she countered.

"Remember who taught you how to pick a lock, kid," he advised. "Knocking is nothing more than a formality. Come over tonight. I'll be a good boy, I promise."

"I don't believe you."

"You're getting smarter." His grin widened. "Make sure you wear something a little less revealing than your usual attire, or I won't be held responsible for what happens."

"I'm not coming!"

"Sure you are," he said. "Don't you want your birthday present?"

"I thought you said I wasn't getting one."

"Yeah, well, I'm in a good mood. I might have a date on Saturday." He rested his elbows on his knees, looking just a little too conniving for Rikku's comfort.

"A date?" She asked warily. "With who?"

"Girl called Lynsi. She's from Luca. Nice-looking girl. Wants to take me on this nice romantic dinner date. I said I'd think about it."

"So you're making dates while hitting on me," she sneered. "Classy, Gippal." She was furious, and he was thrilled.

"Jealous?" he asked.

"No!" She backpedaled. "Why should I care who you go out with?"

"You're absolutely right," he agreed. "Why should you care? It's not like we're _involved_. Although, if you were interested, I might be persuaded to cancel with Lynsi."

"_No freaking way_," she hissed, cutting off the connection abruptly. A moment later, the commsphere flickered to life again, and his laughter filled the room.

"_Would you stop doing that!_"

"It's enough that you're angry, honey. I'll tell Lynsi I can't make it."

She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat, wishing he was there so she could _strangle_ him. "I don't _care_!"

"Sure you do. See you tonight."

The sphere went black, and she screamed her irritation.

- -

Shortly after midnight, there were four sharp raps on her door. She dragged herself out of bed, wishing a particularly nasty death on the idiot who'd decided to interrupt her sleep. She twisted the lock, yanking the door open angrily.

"Morning, sunshine." Gippal eased through the door, carrying a rather large box. He brushed a kiss across her cheek as he dropped the box on her table. "Didn't anyone ever tell you never to open the door at night? I could've been a Lupine for all you knew."

"A Lupine who knocks. Okay." She yawned. "What're you _doing_ here? I _told_ you I wasn't coming!"

"And I told you I'd come to you if you didn't come to me. It's past midnight, kid." He turned towards her, grinning.

"So?" She stifled another yawn. "All that means is you _woke me up_."

"It's your birthday, moron!" He ruffled her hair. "You've been eighteen for seven whole minutes already. Wanna see what I got you?"

"I thought I missed my chance," she said. "You know, right about the time _you_ said you were going out with Lynsi, and _I_ said I wasn't coming over."

"What can I say? I'm the forgiving sort. Besides, like I told you, I turned Lynsi down. I like you better than I like her. You've got a nicer butt."

"Don't talk about my butt!"

"But it's so _nice_." He pressed her down onto the couch, retrieving the box he'd brought with him. "Here, open it."

She allowed herself to be distracted by the gift, lifting off the lid. It was filled with what looked like spare parts – specifically, hover modification parts. She knew what most of them were, speed boosters and assorted things like that, but she couldn't fathom why he'd given them to her.

He dropped down on the couch beside her, arm resting on the back of the couch behind her. "So?" he asked.

"They're great," she said. "But I don't have a hover to add them to."

"Yeah, you do." He leaned back, smiling.

"Gippal," she sighed patiently, "I _don't_ have a hover. Why do you think it takes me so long to get to Djose from Bikanel? I've got to catch a ferry to Luca and then hike up the high road."

"Kid," he said. "You _do_ have a hover." He tossed a small set of silver keys into her lap. "I built it for you."

She looked at the keys in her hand incredulously. "You built a hover for me?"

"Yeah. Took me a couple of months, and I had a hell of a time keeping you from finding out, but I figure you're only eighteen once, you know? It had to be special."

She was going to cry. She _never_ cried. "Thank you." She sniffled.

"Aw, don't _cry_. I never understood that whole 'crying when you're happy' thing, okay? It makes _no_ sense." He sighed, swiping his fingertips across her cheeks, gently brushing away the few tears that had escaped.

She laughed a little in spite of herself, feeling a little awkward. "Really. Thanks. A lot."

"I had to get you something good, right? You're my best girl." He leaned backwards, linking his arms behind his head. "By the way, I hope you're inviting me to stay the night," he said conversationally, "since I just missed the last ferry back to Luca."

She froze. "What?"

"I rode your hover here," he said. "How d'you think I'll get back to Djose at this time of the morning? Guess I'll just have to stay the night."

"You came here this late on purpose!" she accused. "You _knew_ you would miss the last ferry and I would have to invite you to stay!"

"Can you blame a guy for trying?" He shrugged nonchalantly.

"_Yes!_"

"You'd turn me out in the cold-"

"This is the _desert_."

"…after I got you such a _fantastic_ birthday present?"

She hesitated. "You can stay on the couch."

"I'll never fit." He grinned. It was true. He had at least eight inches on her, and _she_ barely fit.

"Then _I'll_ take the couch." She tried to stand up, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her back down.

"In your own house? Cid would kill me."

"Then what would you suggest?" she asked.

"We'll share _your_ bed."

"It's too small," she protested. "It's really not made for two people. I'll take the couch. Really. It's no trouble. Least I can do."

"I'll stay on my side of the bed," he promised, "and I'll behave myself."

She didn't believe him. Of course she didn't. Cid had taught his daughter well. But she knew Gippal, and once he'd set his mind to something, there was no stopping him. He'd _said_ he'd behave. She'd just have to keep him honest. How hard could it be to keep him off of her for one night?


	2. Chapter 2

"Rule number one. No touching."

"No touching," he echoed dutifully, looking thoroughly unrepentant for causing so much trouble.

"Rule number two. No…no _kissing_."

"No kissing. Got it."

"Rule number three. Stay on your side of the bed." She tried to look formidable, but figured she probably just looked ridiculous. Probably he didn't usually have women setting ground rules before hopping into bed with him.

"Stay on my side. Right." He was grinning. She knew enough about him to know that he wasn't taking her seriously.

"Rule number four. You must be fully clothed at all times."

"_Fully-clothed_?" He scoffed. "Even socks and boots? Come _on_. Don't you trust me?"

"About as far as I can throw you," she shot back.

"Ouch. I suggest a compromise. I'll wear as much as _you_ wear."

"But it's _hot_," she protested.

"I know." He wore the self-satisfied smile of a man who knew he'd won.

"Fine, fine, fine." She'd just have to suffer through the night in combat boots and a parka. "Where was I?"

"Rule number five."

"Thanks. Rule number five. No undressing."

"No undressing who? Me? You?"

"_Anyone_. There is to be no undressing of any sort." She crossed her arms, giving him her best 'end of discussion' look. Unfortunately, speaking glances were one of the few things she had not managed to learn from Paine.

"That's just not fair. I vote no on rule five."

"This is not a democracy!"

"Fine, then. Suck the fun out of everything, why don't you." He was dangerously close to a pout.

"Rule six. No _breathing_ on me."

"No _breathing_? Are you trying to kill me or something?"

"You _can_ breathe, just…just not…oh, you know what I mean!" She whirled around, annoyed and a little embarrassed. "Make sure you've got them all. I'm going to go get ready for bed." She beat a hasty retreat, locking herself in her bathroom.

She took her time, brushing her teeth and washing her face, making sure her night clothes provided decent coverage. Already she could tell it was going to be a miserable, _hot_ night. She'd just _known_ this was a bad idea. There was just no way he was going to be as cooperative as he'd claimed he was going to be.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed when she emerged from the bathroom, looking a little miffed that she'd opted for more clothes than less.

"So," she began, "which side of the bed do you want?"

"I'm not picky," he replied. "Which side do you normally sleep on?"

"The middle," she snapped tartly, "after all, it's _my_ bed."

"You can still sleep in the middle," he said, "I'll squeeze in there somewhere. I'm up for some cuddling."

Somehow, she could not imagine Gippal 'cuddling' with anyone.

"I'll take the side nearest the wall," she said quickly. He got up, watching her scramble across the small bed to the far side, where she promptly turned her back on him.

"I'm gonna go clean up," he said, heading for the bathroom, "you go ahead and get comfortable."

"Don't you dare use my toothbrush!"  
"Brought my own," he called over his shoulder as the door closed.

Rikku punched her pillow viciously. _As if_ she had needed the reminder that he'd planned this whole debacle! She should've just gone to Djose. Sighing, she huddled against the wall, pressing her forehead against the wonderfully cool surface. She heard the door open a few moments later, and closed her eyes. With any luck, he'd think she was asleep and have mercy on her.

The bed depressed as he slid in. Her bed was small, and she _knew_ he'd take up most of it. She was going to try her best not to get in his way. Maybe he'd leave her alone. Maybe she should've slipped some sleep powder in his coffee.

She was so wrapped up in her coulda-woulda-shouldas that when his fingers touched her shoulder a few minutes later, she jumped, squawking indignantly.

"Rule number one!" she cried, "No touching!"

"What the hell made you so spastic all of a sudden?" He said, surprised. "The old Rikku was never quite this jumpy."

"The _old_ Rikku didn't have to fend off perverted advances in her own bed," she hissed.

"I remember my promise," he chuckled, "I'll be good. Mostly."

She didn't like the sound of that. Mostly good was not _all_ good. Mostly good sounded like trouble. She turned her face into her pillow and screamed.

"Hey, now. I haven't done anything for you to scream over yet. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." His lips touched her cheek and his fingers were tugging at her pajama pants, and he was breaking rules one, two, three and five all at once. She shoved at his chest, and her fingers touched warm, smooth muscles. No shirt. He'd broken rule four _ages_ ago.

"Rule number seven." She fought for control of her pajama pants. "No sexual innuendos."

He burst out laughing. "You are so _funny_." He won the battle for her pants, of course, tossing them aside, setting to work on the buttons of her shirt.

"Would you stop undressing me!" She whacked at his hands.

"No." He kissed the tip of her nose, parting the shirt down the middle. "No bra?" His fingers skimmed over her bare stomach caressingly. He allowed her to jerk her arms over her breasts only _after_ he'd slid them through the arms of her shirt. It, too, was cast aside. With one hand, she grabbed for a sheet. It slipped through her fingers as he yanked it away.

"Calm down, honey. Don't blow a gasket just yet." He tipped her over, and she landed back on the bed, head on the pillow. He leaned over her, and she could see the line of hair low on his abdomen that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. His lips brushed her forehead, gentle and warm. His shoulder hit the pillow beside her head, and he rolled her into his arms. Her cheek was pillowed against his chest, one of his arms wrapped comfortably around her. The sheet fluttered down over top of both of them, draped haphazardly over his hips and her midsection. His hand teased her shoulder, rubbing a few strands of her hair between his thumb and index fingers.

"See? Cooler, isn't it," he said.

It was. His chest made a pretty darn good pillow, and just the sheet over the both of them made the heat bearable. She figured if this was the worst he was going to do tonight, she could let it slide.

"I guess," she said. "Couldn't you have just told me? You didn't have to pull off my clothes."

"Yeah," he snorted, "because you _so_ would've gone for it if I'd just told you we'd both be happier if you took off your clothes."

It _did_ sound a little ridiculous when he put it like that. Her fingers slid across his warm chest, rubbing absently across his nipple.

"We're both happier this way," he continued, "and it'll help you get used to touching me."

"Maybe I don't _want_ to touch you," she muttered. His hand covered hers, which she'd been stroking across his chest.

"Who're you trying to convince, princess, me or yourself?"

"Shut it or I'm out of here." She yanked her fingers out from under his, tucking them safely under her chin.

"Like I said before," he responded, "I don't mind if you want to touch me. Really. Be my guest." He stretched out, folding his arms behind his head.

"I'll pass for now," she replied warily. "Let's just…go to sleep."

"Sure?" He grinned. "God knows I've got the patience of a saint. I can handle a lesson or two without losing my cool."

"A lesson?" She echoed weakly.

"Yeah. Anatomy 101. Great course for beginners. You'll get hands-on experience with a _real man_."

"Fantastic. I'll sign Tidus up." She turned her back on him, and he laughed.

"Don't be like that, honey." His hands slid soothingly over the smooth skin of her back, rubbing the tension from her shoulders. Involuntarily her tight muscles relaxed, and he pulled her into the curve of his body. He kissed the top of her head, wrapping an arm securely around her. "Good night, kid," he whispered, "happy birthday."

- -

It was early. Too early for normal people to be awake. And yet she was slowly surfacing from her happy little dream world, complete awareness still just a little out of reach. Something wasn't quite right. There was something she should be remembering. Something important. Something that had to do with why she was awake so early in the morning.

Vaguely, she was aware of something brushing against her stomach. Irritated, she thrust a hand down beneath the sheet to remove whatever it was that was irritating her. Her fingers fisted in short, soft hair. Startled, she opened her eyes, yanking the sheet away.

"Well, hello." Gippal grinned up at her, bristly cheek brushing her bare stomach. His tongue darted out, swirling around her navel.

"What do you think you're doing?" It was too _early_ to be fighting him off!

"Finding out what you taste like," he responded.

"Oh, _no_ you're not." She rolled out from under him, swiping her nightshirt off the floor. "Can't you go just one single day without thinking about sex? Rule number eight: _no attempting to seduce me_." She grabbed her pajama pants, just in case.

"You have not seen _anything_ close to a seduction attempt, honey." He raised himself up on his elbows, watching her frantically shove her arms into her shirt. "I have not yet _begun_ to fight."

And the look he gave her had her running for the bathroom, fumbling with the lock, and wishing she'd brought a chair to prop under the handle. Because he was _right_. She was nowhere near prepared for him. Good girls ran the other way when men looked at them like that. And maybe duct-taped their legs together.

She was in _serious_ trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

"You've gotta come out _sometime_, honey."

She _hated_ when he used that 'I am being patient because you are a fragile, delicate little flower' tone.

"That's what _you_ think," she shouted through the door. And as an afterthought, she added, "And don't call me _honey_, either!"

"What should I call you, then?" He was laughing again, but _anything_ was better than that condescending tone. "Baby? Sweetheart? Darling?"

"I think I just threw up in my mouth." She made a disgusted face. "I _have_ a name, you know." Angrily, she twisted the shower taps, pleased to find that the rushing water drowned out his voice. She checked the lock on the door _just to be safe_ before disrobing and stepping into the shower and adjusting the shower curtain.

With the hot water pounding down on her back, she could almost forget about Gippal and his odd, unexpected shift from _trusted _friend to _lusting_ friend. He'd never given her any reason in the past to think that he thought of her as anything more than Cid's daughter, or Brother's kid sister. And now he wanted to stick his tongue in her mouth and stick his fingers...well, it didn't bear thinking about. Still, he _obviously_ knew what he was doing in that respect.

Irritated with herself for allowing herself to think of Gippal - _Gippal,_ of all people! - in a sexual light, she scrubbed shampoo viciously through her hair, working up a lather. The soap stung her eyes, but she could suffer through it if it meant taking her mind off of Gippal. Especially the shirtless Gippal, with the sexy voice and the teasing laugh, and the...

She growled her irritation, rinsing conditioner from her hair, and turning off the taps.

"Don't be an idiot," she whispered to herself.

"Who's an idiot?" His voice was _much_ too close.

She jumped in surprise, bare feet sliding in the slick tub. An arm thrust through the shower curtain, wrapping around her and yanking her back against his chest, the shower curtain still between them. His arm slid against her wet stomach, and she shoved at his arm.

"All right?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of me and get out of my bathroom!" She jumped away when he let go of her, wondering how she was going to get to her towel when he was waiting right there.

"Want a towel?" He handed one through the gap at one end of the shower. "I didn't look, I promise. I was a good boy."

She snorted. "This must be some use of the word 'good' of which I was not previously aware. _You broke into my bathroom!_"  
"But I saved you from falling."

"Which I wouldn't have done if you hadn't startled me by _breaking into my bathroom_!" She wrapped the towel around herself, holding it firmly. Now if she could only get out of the shower without any further incidents. Warily, she pushed the shower curtain away, peeking out at him. And immediately wished she hadn't. Because he was leaning against the door with a towel wrapped around his lean hips, his bare chest looking _absolutely delicious._ She stepped back, closed the shower curtain, and pressed her hands over her eyes. This wasn't going to do at all.

"I don't suppose this means you wanna shower with me?"

"_No_," she hissed back, gritting her teeth. She was just going to have to avoid looking at his chest. Or thinking about it. _Touching_ it was _right out_.

She sighed, stepping gingerly out of the tub, taking care to keep the towel from riding up her thighs.

"You're blocking the door," she said patiently.

"So I've noticed."

"Could you move?" She frowned. "Please," she added, a little more kindly.

"Gotta pay the toll first, honey."

"Toll?" she asked sweetly.

"A kiss," he replied. And she was just _certain_ that his usual smile had definitely crossed the line from grin to smirk.

"But I've only got a towel on!"

"So've I."

That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. But he'd taken hold of her shoulders with both hands, gently pulling her towards him, and she didn't dare look down to see if his towel had stayed in place. He tucked her up against that fantastic chest, and his hands fell to her waist, holding her there. She couldn't look at him, wouldn't take her eyes away from his throat. She was trying to look _through_ him rather than _at_ him, and she was failing miserably.

"Come on. Just a little one, I promise."

She wasn't stupid enough to believe him. _That_ would be tantamount to suicide…or seduction, more likely. But still she tilted her face up to his.

He didn't kiss her right away. His fingers touched her cheek, tucking a wet lock of hair behind her ear. Then his bristly cheek touched hers and his lips brushed hers so gently she thought maybe she'd imagined it. He pulled just a little away, and she followed, rocking up onto her toes. It was the reaction he'd hoped for, she realized upon hearing his muffled chuckle. But then his lips were on hers again, and she forgot all about whether or not she was playing right into his hands.

Eventually his fingers began creeping under her towel, and she broke the kiss with a little gasp. She pushed away from him, glaring, irritated that he'd managed to break down her resolutions to keep him at arms' length.

"God, Gippal, at least _shave_ first." She made a face and turned her back on him, pleased to see the mirror was still fogged up. He wouldn't be able to see her blush. "It's like kissing a cactuar."

"Did I scratch you?" He rubbed his palm over his jaw, gauging the length of his stubble. "Lemme see."

"No!" She jerked away from him, scooting around him to the now-abandoned door. "I'm fine. I'm going to go get dressed."

"All right," he let her go, a little amused over her odd behavior. "I'm going to take a quick shower, then. No peeking." He closed the door behind her, clicking the lock.

Annoyed, Rikku rummaged through her dresser, searching for the least-revealing outfit she possessed. She'd briefly considered picking the lock on the bathroom door just because he'd told her not to peek, but she decided he'd be more amused than irritated, and there was the distinct possibility that he'd take it as some sort of _invitation_.

She'd just finished twisting her still-damp hair into a braid when the door opened and he emerged in a towel.

"Sorry, left my clothes out here." His smile belied his apology. He wasn't sorry _at all_. She ignored him.

"Nice outfit, kid." He looked her over. "Haven't seen _that_ one in years."

She flushed guiltily, certain that he knew _exactly_ what had motivated her to don the old orange shirt (which was admittedly a little tight in the bust, now) and a pair of relatively modest shorts. It was the most concealing outfit she possessed.

"It's not gonna work, you know."

"No idea what you're talking about. Sorry." She feigned interest in choosing socks.

"Covering up like that," he gestured, and his towel slipped a little. "Not gonna stop me."

She swallowed heavily. "Maybe I just like this outfit, okay?"

"Whatever you say, kid," he laughed, retrieving his clothes. He looked at them distastefully. "Man, I'm gonna _have_ to get a change of clothes today."

"But Djose's so _far_!" she protested.

"Naw, I'm just gonna stop by my house really quick."

"Your…house?" She echoed.

"Yeah, just down the street a little. It's not exactly a secret or anything, I just don't get out here too often, since Djose's my primary residence." He flicked a speck of mud off his boots.

"You have a _house_?"

"It's more of a cottage, really. Small."

"On _Bikanel_?"

"Yeah. I'm Al Bhed, aren't I? Why shouldn't I have a house here?"

"_Then why the hell didn't you stay there last night!_"

"Because I wanted to sleep with you."

Rikku's fingers curled, clutching fiercely at thing air, and he had the feeling that she _itched_ to get them around his throat. Seething, she stomped off towards the kitchen, rummaging through and slamming drawers, creating a racket the likes of which he had never heard from her before. Finally, she found what she was searching for – a rolling pin.

"Get out."

"But I've only got a towel on!" Somehow, that line sounded familiar to him.

"Don't care." She pointed to the door. "Out!"

"But-"

"_Out_!" She brandished the rolling pin menacingly. Gippal thought she looked adorable, cheeks flushed with righteous indignation, arms akimbo, chest heaving in that too-tight shirt.

"Okay, okay," he shuffled towards the door, keeping a tight grip on the towel. Bikanel got some nasty sandstorms, and he'd be damned if he was going to be caught bare-assed in the middle of one. She followed behind him, lips pursed angrily. "I'm gonna go change, kid. Be right back." He dropped a kiss atop her head, and she shrieked her irritation.

"Out, out, _out_!" She aimed a swing at his rear, missing by a hair.

"Watch it!" He called, laughing.

"The next one won't miss!"

"All right, I'm going!" He turned back to grin at her one last time, standing on her front porch, oblivious to the people on the street around him, staring curiously. "See you in a few."

She slammed the door in his face.

- -

It took some work getting back in, but he had the benefit of surprise and all the skill of a master thief. He wasn't stupid enough to try for the front door – he went around the house to the bathroom window, easing it carefully up, and sliding silently through it. He could hear her in the kitchen, talking to herself. It was an interesting, amusing little habit she'd picked up.

"I'm gonna _kill_ him," she was saying, and Gippal had no doubt she was referring to him. He peeked around the corner, watching her slide into a kitchen chair, resting her head on her folded arms.

"_He'll_ be gone and _I'll_ finally be happy. At least this whole 'relationship' nonsense will go away." She made a sound midway between a snort and a giggle. "If he's dead, Pops'll probably assign me to Djose. Might be fun to have something to do again." Her fingers drifted across the table aimlessly, and she sighed. "I might miss his _butt_, though. Maybe I could convince Pops to have a statue commissioned, or something. At least _it_ wouldn't try to put its tongue in my mouth."

Despite the undeniable fact that she seemed to be plotting his untimely demise, Gippal couldn't help being thrilled to discover that she admired his butt. But, then, years of repressed desire might've skewed his priorities a little. He decided it would be a good time to make his appearance…before she got to the actual planning phase.

"Sorry it took so long, kid. It seems I got locked out."

She jumped, gasping a little. Her face went alternately red and white.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know you think my butt is so fantastic that you want it immortalized." He grinned. "So what're you up to?"

"Contemplating homicide." She glared.

"So I heard." He grinned. "It tends to work better if your mark doesn't know he's gonna get it, though. So what say you we go to Kilika?"

"Kilika? Why?"

"Why not? Give you an excuse to try out that new hover. Long as I get to come, too, of course."

She'd forgotten about his birthday gift to her. She hadn't even _seen_ it yet, she'd been so preoccupied with Gippal and his constant touchy-feely behavior.

"What do you say? We'll take the hover to the ferry, and the ferry to Kilika. I'll take you to a nice birthday lunch."

It seemed relatively harmless to her. And she really, really, _really_ wanted to try out that hover.

"Just between you and me, it's relatively difficult to seduce women in public. And Kilika's about as public as it gets."

And that clinched it.

- -

Next thing she knew, she was climbing on her very own hover, cranking up the engine, thrilling at the soft whirr of the machine. Gippal climbed on behind her, hands firmly on her hips.

"Just for the record, I'm pushing you off if you make one move I don't like."

"Oh, you'll like it, I promise," he purred in her ear.

"Watch those hands!" She hit the gas, and the hover shot over the dunes. He held on, fingers stroking the bare flesh revealed between the top of her shorts and the bottom of that damned too-tight too-small shirt.

"You're gonna overshoot the ferry."

He sounded so damn _calm_ when she was about to jump out of her skin. It was just maddening. She veered to the right, easing off the gas as they approached the beach. They eased the hover up the cargo ramp, parked it, and headed towards the front of the ferry.

The water was calm and blue, and the trip to Kilika was short. They didn't allow hovers in the port city, so she had to leave it parked at the docks until they were ready to leave.

Kilika had expanded a great deal in the post-Sin years. With Sin no longer around to destroy it time and time again, Kilika prospered and grew. It had become a bustling town with hundreds of shops, restaurants, and apartment complexes. The wooden buildings stacked high with intricate mazes of stairs and bridges. It was both daunting and fascinating.

They ate in a small café overlooking the water. Rikku picked at her food, watching the fishermen outside, hauling in their nets. The tide was getting rough, and their tiny boats were getting tossed around. Several had started back to shore.

"Why're they doing that?" she asked. "They could catch more fish. There's still plenty of daylight."

"Not for long," Gippal replied. "Storm's coming."

"What?" she gasped.

He took a bite of his sandwich, choosing his words before speaking. "Water's getting choppy. They're seasoned enough that they know a brewing storm when they see it."

"We've gotta get to the ferry! We've gotta get back to Bikanel!" She shot up, tossing a few bills on the table to cover their lunch. He caught her wrist, pulling her back down into the chair.

"Ferry'll be docked, too, kid. We're stuck in Kilika for the time being."

"Stuck?" she asked weakly. "But…I don't have enough money on me for a hotel room!"

"S'ok." He finished off his sandwich. "I got an apartment here."

"I am not staying in an apartment alone with you!"

He just smiled. "What other options have you got?"

It was sprinkling by the time he was quite finished with his dessert. And by the time they'd made it to the ferry dock – just to make _absolutely certain_ the ferries weren't running – it had turned into a full-blown freezing rain. Lightening crackled in the air, and Rikku tried not to wince at every thunderclap. She was wet, cold, and miserable…so much so that she was almost _glad_ when Gippal fumbled his keys out of his sodden pockets, unlocking the door. He held it open for her, and she trudged in, yanking off her boots. She didn't want to get his carpet soaked.

She heard the snick of the lock, and turned around. He was working the buttons of his shirt, and he looked just a little too pleased at the current turn of events.

"Rule number one," he teased, flinging the shirt across the room. It landed on the tile in the kitchen with a wet plop. "Lots and _lots_ of touching."

- -

AN: I can't make any promises as to when I will next update this story. A family friend, whom I have known since childhood, recently died in a car crash. It was a big shock to me and my father, even more so to his family. He was just twenty-two. Needless to say, I am not feeling exceptionally creative right now. I ask for your patience.


	4. Chapter 4

_This story contains adult subject matter. Please do not read unless you are of legal age to do so._

The cold affected her reflexes. She dropped her shoes on the carpet and tried to sidestep him, but she was cold and clumsy, and she stumbled.

"Easy," he said, catching her arms. He was forever righting her, making sure she didn't fall, saving her from her own clumsiness. He brushed her fluttering arms away, snagging the hem of that skin-tight shirt and dragging it over her head. Goosebumps covered her smooth flesh, and he rubbed her arms briskly, trying to soothe them away as she covered her bare breasts with her hands.

"I don't wanna drip on your carpet." She was embarrassed. Her eyes were fixed on her toes.

"Honey, I don't care about the carpet. I care about getting you out of those wet clothes." He reached for the buttons on her shorts, but her icy fingers tangled in his.

"Don't wanna." Her face was red, and her teeth chattered, but she glared at him for all she was worth, expression mutinous. Sighing, he touched his forehead to hers.

"Hell, honey, I _told_ you we shoulda come here right away." He ran his fingers through her wet hair soothingly. "Stay here a minute, I'll get you a towel."

She stood, trembling, dripping on the carpet, while he searched the apartment for towels. He came back with two, one of which he draped over her shoulders, and the other he dropped over her head, rubbing her hair until she growled at him to stop.

"Bathroom's down the hall." He gripped her shoulders, pointing her in the right direction, while she glared at him from underneath the towel. "Go dry off and I'll bring you something to wear."

She went. It was nice to take off her wet clothes and wrap herself in a warm, dry towel. The air in the apartment was cool, and she couldn't seem to stop shivering.

He knocked lightly on the door, and she opened it just a little.

"Here. A pajama top." He handed it over. It was big, warm, soft, and wonderfully dry.

"No pants?"

"Only got one pair. You can have the bottoms, too, if you want, but then I'll have to sleep naked tonight. Not really sure they'll fit you, at any rate."

"Just the top, then, thanks." She snapped the door closed, discarding the towel in favor of the pajama top. It was warm and comfortable, and hung nearly to her knees, although it did have the regrettable tendency to dip off one shoulder, alarmingly low over her collarbone.

It was too revealing to wear around a man who was bound and determine to get into her pants, but her only other options were wet and cold and she wasn't _about_ to get back into them. Besides, if he got overly amorous, she supposed she could just wrap herself in the shower curtain.

She emerged from the bathroom with the shirt concealing as much as she could get it to, grabbing a fistful of the fabric at her waist in the hopes that it would keep it from slipping down again.

"In the kitchen," he called, and she followed his voice towards the front of the small apartment, bare feet padding silently over the cool tile. He was standing near the sink, wearing only the pants that matched the shirt he'd given her. His gaze swept over her, telling her that holding the bunch of fabric at her waist was emphasizing her figure far too much to be safe. She dropped the fabric quickly, letting it fan out around her knees like a dress.

"Hot chocolate?" He offered her a cup.

"Thanks." She reached for the cup, and the shirt dipped down her other shoulder. She froze, fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched his eyes slide away from her face, down her throat, lingering on her exposed skin. Funny how she felt more vulnerable now in a long shirt than she had in a skimpy bikini.

Awkwardly, she lifted the mug from his hand, bringing the cup to her lips and lowering her gaze to its murky depths. She sipped hesitantly, singeing her tongue on the hot liquid.

"It's good. Thanks."

"Everything I make is good." He set his mug aside. "You hungry? I think there's some soup in the pantry." He opened a door, rummaging through the shelves.

"We just ate."

"Yeah, but it's cold outside. We should have soup. You eat soup when it's cold, don't you?" He shoved his arm to the back, studying cans intently. "Aha!" He retrieved a can of dubious age and origin, scrutinizing the paper label. "You like tomato?"

"Not even a little." She made a face.

"Me neither." He tossed the can back, sighing. "Guess the soup'll have to wait until the storm passes."

"Why'd you buy tomato soup if you don't like it?"

"I didn't." He shut the pantry door, leaning back against the counter. "Nooj stayed here last a couple of months ago, I think, so he probably bought it. I don't use this place much. Almost sold it a while back. Glad I didn't, now."

"Oh," she said weakly. "Any other residences I should know about?"

"Nothing comes to mind." He touched his hand to a window, watching his body heat fog it up. "I used to have a place in Bevelle, a little while after the Crimson Squad gig. Gave it Baralai, though. Never was very comfortable in Bevelle. Even if they didn't do anything, they made it very clear that our kind weren't welcome."

Rikku winced. She'd come across more than her share of prejudice as well, in her travels. It was never easy to take. Even a half-blood like Yuna couldn't fully comprehend the struggle the Al Bhed had endured just to survive.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It must have been very hard for you, there."

"It was," he said, curtly. "I don't miss it. Even now, even with Baralai as Praetor, Bevelle still isn't friendly to the Al Bhed."

"You can't undo generations of hate all at once," she said consolingly. "Besides, we're slowly educating Spirans, you know. More and more of them are starting to trust us, to realize that machines aren't what they were brought up to believe they were."

Irritated, he slapped the countertop. "They shouldn't have to _start_ trusting us," he said. "We never did _anything_ to them, and they slaughtered us like _animals_. _We_ were victimized."

She touched his arm gently, sliding her fingers down it to wrap them around his clenched fist. "Yevon lied to them all their lives, Gippal," she said softly. "It doesn't make it right. It doesn't excuse what they did. But none of us can go back. There's only going forward, learning from our past, realizing our mistakes."

He unclenched his fingers, sliding them through hers, grasping her hand tightly.

"When did a sprout like you get so smart, huh?" His lips twitched up just a little.

"Watch it!" She socked his shoulder with her other fist, grinning up at him. "I'm not a kid anymore, you know."

"Yeah, I know." He tugged her a little closer, and too late she realized her error in getting so close to him. But his arm was already around her waist, and he was pulling her up against him.

"Gippal…" Her free hand settled against his shoulder, unsure if she should be pushing him away just yet.

"Don't freak out, Cid's girl."

"I'm not _freaking out_." He was making her sound like some sort of shrinking violet, and she resented it. She could be around a half-naked man without being accused of _freaking out_. He was Gippal. He was like…like a _brother_.

"Yeah, you are." His soft laughter rippled over her as he pressed his lips against her ear. "It's okay, you know. I don't bite."

_That_ was a lie. Two weeks ago he'd pushed her up against a wall and nipped her shoulder and her earlobe and…she shouldn't be thinking about it. He was like family, like a relative. She didn't want to let herself think of _him_ like that.

Now she was lying to _herself_, and that was _worse_.

"Honey." His voice had gone all low and husky, and his hand shifted from the small of her back down her rear, fitting her hips to his. His warm breath fanned out against her neck, and she felt goosebumps prickling her flesh again, but not because she was cold. It was oddly reminiscent of the one time she'd had a little too much wine – her mind had gotten foggy and she was having a hard time trying to remember what she should be doing and why she shouldn't be letting Gippal touch her like he was.

His tongue traced the seal of her lips, and she jumped like she'd been touched with a live wire. She gasped, and he used the opportunity to touch his mouth to hers, tasting the hot chocolate she'd just finished and the mint lip-gloss she favored. For a moment she let him, let him slide his tongue into her mouth, let him wrap it around hers, let him suck on her lower lip like it was a piece of candy. His knuckles brushed her cheek, his fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head up for a better angle. Then he slipped his arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly against him, his fingers resting on the exposed skin of her shoulder, stroking gently.

Every move he made was slow and purposeful, with her comfort, her pleasure in mind, but still she pulled back a moment later, pursing her lips. Her nails raked his shoulders. She didn't even remember putting her hands there. How could she lose her composure so easily with him? It didn't make any sense. No man had ever rattled her like he did. She didn't like it. Not a bit.

"You're thinking too hard." There was amusement in his voice, and a little laughter.

"How would _you _know?" She didn't appreciate being the source of his amusement. She would've shoved away from him, but his arm was wrapped around her too tightly.

"Your forehead wrinkles up when you're thinking hard. And you pout." His fingers soothed away the little pout lingering on her lips, taking a tiny bit of her lip-gloss with them.

"I do not." It was instinctive to argue, especially with him. It was almost a way of life at this point, an instinctive retreat, a desperate attempt to return to the comfortable animosity of the past.

"You do, too." He adjusted his arms around her, wrapped loosely but unshakably around her waist.

They fit together nicely, and she hated herself for noticing it. Something about him, maybe the broadness of his shoulders, his imposing stature as compared to her less than formidable one, made her feel feminine. It was something to which she wasn't accustomed. She'd grown up in a household of men; she was more comfortable digging in the desert and fixing up machina than she'd ever been shopping or going to the salon.

"You're thinking too hard again." He tapped her forehead. Jerked out of her reverie, she scowled up at him.

"Look, I'm not…I'm not _girly_."

Laughter burst from him, and she hit his shoulder in irritation. "Shut it, you," she instructed. "It's the truth!"

"No, it's not." He captured her fist, bringing it to his lips. "I don't know who told you that, but they're wrong."

"Nobody had to _tell_ me," she said. "I'm _not_ girly. I don't do girly things."

"Sure, you do. And even if you didn't, you'd still be girly enough for me." He was kissing her wrist, the sensitive skin of her forearm, and she was momentarily distracted.

"I don't _want_ to be girly for _you_, jackass." Her eyes narrowed.

"Then why are you explaining to me why you're not girly?" He 'tsk'ed. "You do a lot of frowning for such a pretty girl."

"Who's explaining? I'm stating a fact. I'm just saying that if you want a girly girl, I am not the sort to get involved with." He kept _touching_ her, _caressing_ her. It was making her nervous. And a little excited. She nibbled her lower lip.

"I want _you_, honey. You're plenty girly enough for me." He tugged her lip out from beneath her small white teeth. "Stop that."

"Why should I?" she snapped. "_You_ were chewing on it earlier. Why can't I?"

"It's my turn. Didn't you ever learn to share?"

She backed away, as far as his hold on her would allow, which was not nearly as far as she would've liked.

"Oh, no, no, no. We are _not_ starting this again."

"Are you sure? It's a lot of fun." He slid his fingers up her thigh under the shirt, bunching the fabric at her waist, and his lips brushed over her collarbone. She was off-balance, leaning backwards, but his strong arm around her waist and his superior mass kept her feet planted firmly on the ground. The shirt slid down her shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. He tugged the collar lower with his teeth, unable to unfasten the buttons of the shirt as his hands were otherwise occupied.

"Gippal, I'm gonna fall," she whispered breathily.

"Then hang on, honey." His hands at her waist dragged her up onto her toes, arching her towards him as his head bent to her breasts. Her hands wrapped around his head just as his lips settled over her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth.

"Oooh," she sighed, fingers sifting through the fine blond hair at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah," he agreed, breaking the suction long enough to encourage that small bit of noise she'd made. Already her eyes were closed, savoring the feeling of his mouth and hands on her. He bent his head again, not wanting to give her a chance to come to her senses. He wanted her to come to grips with what he could make her feel, to understand the full scope of his passion for her, and to realize that he wasn't going away.

It was an awkward position, though, and the muscles of his shoulders were protesting heartily. He was going to have to move her and hope that she'd be cooperative. He slid the hand that had been caressing her thigh around to her waist, relishing her little whine of protest.

"Honey, I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" He lifted her, sliding his arm beneath her knees, cradling her against his bare chest. She pressed her lips to his, allowing him to carry her down the hall towards his bedroom.

Blindly, he ran his hand along the wall, feeling for the light switch. It flared to life, illuminating the dark room, and he gently set her on the bed, smoothly following her down onto it. His fingers worked the buttons of the shirt, deftly easing her out of it. He settled over her, enjoying the feeling of her bare breasts against his chest.

"Wow, you feel nice," he whispered against her lips, running his fingers over her hip. She shivered, gasping at the caress. He felt the muscles of her stomach trembling as his fingers slid over them, towards her crotch. Delicately he brushed her clitoris, and her head fell back against the pillow. She moved restlessly, unable to escape his gentle touch, body over-sensitized and so responsive that it made Gippal's head spin. He wrung little sighs from her, enjoying the erotic picture she made, lying beneath him, sweaty and flushed from his ministrations – too beautiful to be real.

"Gippal," she said on a little choked gasp, "I'm gonna come!" Her fingers wrapped around his wrist like she might pry his fingers away, but she exerted no pressure. She just bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as her hips strained against his invading fingers. He watched her face, feeling her tense up, her inner muscles clutching at his fingers. A small cry was wrenched from her, and he kissed her cheek, her trembling lips, and her damp throat. Gradually she relaxed back against the pillows, breathing heavily.

"You're shaking," she murmured, running her hands up his arms. He'd been supporting his considerable weight above her, and the exertion was beginning to take its toll on him. But he didn't care about the discomfort, not when she looked so goddamn _sexy_, lying there naked in his arms, in his bed.

"Yeah, well," he eased down onto his forearms, bringing him nose-to-nose with her. "What can I say? You make me go a little crazy sometimes." He settled between her legs, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" she whispered. She could feel him hard and pressed against the core of her, through the thin fabric of the pajama pants. It was a little intimidating because she'd never found herself in this situation before – had never even _wanted_ to be in it – but now that she was, she didn't quite know if she wanted _out_ of it just yet. She wanted to touch him, but she was afraid to ask, afraid that he might read more into it than she wanted him to.

"What're you thinking so hard about?" He kissed the pout from her lips.

"I don't wanna say." She frowned, shifting her eyes away from his.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't _want_ to!" She was horrified to feel a blush rising on her cheeks. She turned her face to the side, irritated and embarrassed.

"Are you _blushing_?" He was thrilled. "Now I gotta know."

"No way!" She shoved his shoulders, trying to wriggle out from beneath him.

"Damn," he gasped, pinning her shoulders to the mattress. "Honey, don't _move_ like that, okay?" He softened the words with a kiss.

"Why not?" She blinked up at him innocently, uncomprehending. He sighed, striving for patience. She knew very little about men, very little about sex, very little about life in general.

"It's dangerous when I'm as hungry as I am," he said bluntly. "You're naked and it would so _easy_ to seduce you right now, but I'm trying very, _very_ hard to let it be your choice, not _my_ experience. You could push me over the edge so easily it isn't even funny."

"I could?" Her eyes were very wide. She had never imagined she held so much power over him.

"Yeah." He kind of liked that shocked, awed expression. Gently, he pressed against her, rolling his hips so she could feel him. "God, that's good." He closed his eyes, shuddering.

"Can I…" she hesitated, looking a little unsure, hesitant. "Can I…touch you?" The words were soft, just barely whispered, and he thought he'd imagine them. But when he saw her scarlet blush return, he knew what she'd been thinking when he'd demanded she tell him a few minutes prior.

"You really want to?" He was a little surprised. He hadn't thought she'd offer of her own accord. Stimulated passion was one thing – he knew he could make her want him. Curiosity and a desire to become familiar with him of her own accord were quite another.

"If you'd rather not…" she was withdrawing, he'd made her uncomfortable, ashamed of asking.

"No!" He kissed her, stopping the words. "No, I want you to. God, you don't know how much I want you to."

"You're gonna have to let me up, then. I can't reach like this." She was still pinned firmly beneath him, mobility restricted. She had a point, and god, he wanted her to be able to touch _whatever_ she wanted to. He eased onto his side, shifting his weight so he rolled onto his back, and she sat astride him. She was beautiful, naked and flushed, and she was trying _so_ hard to not to let him see how self-conscious she was. His hands held her hips, keeping her steady, and his thumbs stroked over her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under the light caress.

"Wow," he said, looking up into her face from where he reclined on the pillows. "You got pretty, Cid's girl."

"Thanks, I think." Her palms settled on his chest. Her teeth snagged her lower lip, chewing thoughtfully. "I…I don't know what to do."

He knew that, but it was just so _nice_ to hear her say it, to know that he really was going to be the first one to touch her intimately, and he was going to be the first man she ever touched. The _only_ man. He liked the sound of that.

Her nails raked lightly over his chest, scraping over one of his nipples, and he bit back a groan. She heard the little muffled sound and stopped.

"Did that hurt? I'm sorry, I really-"

"No, it didn't hurt," he interrupted. "I liked it. Really." He placed her hands back on his chest. Gently, carefully, they made a thorough exploration of his hard, muscular chest.

"Do men like being touched here, too?" She pinched his right nipple lightly, feeling his hands contract a little on her hips.

"Yeah," he said. "But then, I like being touched anywhere, as long as it's _you_ doing the touching." He moved a little, adjusting her. "So touch me, honey."

"I am." Her hands were on his chest.

"No," he said, guiding her hand down to the thin line of hair that disappeared into the pajama pants he was wearing. "_Touch_ me, honey."

"Oh. _Oh_." He wanted her to touch him _there_. Well, at least she hadn't had to ask if she was _allowed_ to. Her fingers stroked his cock through his pants. It was hard and thick and long…he wanted to put _that_ inside her? She wasn't so sure that was going to work. She wanted to _see_ him, to touch him skin to skin. She plucked at the waistband of the pajama pants.

"Could you maybe take these off? I can't really touch you through them very well." She managed not to stumble over the words, though she _did_ force them out rather quickly. Maybe familiarity would ease her embarrassment.

She wanted him to take off his pants? Oh, sweet, glorious, joyous day! He'd begun to despair of this moment ever arising. God, in a few moments she was going to have her hands wrapped around his cock, and it was going to be _so good_. Something of his delight must've shown on his face, because her lips twitched into a hesitant smile.

"So, is that a yes or a no?"

He grabbed her shoulders, hauling her down against him to kiss her. She melted against him the moment he thrust his tongue in her mouth, stroking hers.

"That was a yes," he said huskily. "Definitely a yes. Are you sure you want to?"

Her eyes slid away from his. "You did it for me," she said softly. He frowned, forcing her gaze back to his.

"Look, I don't _ever_ want you to feel like you _owe_ me something, okay?" He shifted them again, side to side on the bed. "It's okay if you _want_ to, but it's definitely _not_ okay if you feel like you _have_ to. I don't want you _that_ way, Rikku." He shook her shoulders a little for emphasis. He wanted her involved because it was what she wanted. He wanted her to want _him_. Otherwise, it was no good. And now he couldn't be sure if she really _did_ want it. Damn, it was going to _kill_ him. She'd offered him heaven, but he couldn't take her up on it now.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said. "I didn't. I want to. Really." She'd offended him without meaning to, and now she didn't know how to return them to the intimacy of a few moments before. She eased a little closer, pressing against his chest. He sighed, slipping an arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"I don't think it's a good idea right now," he said slowly. "If you still want to later…"

Irritated, she pushed away from him a little. "Look, _you_ were the one pushing me into going to bed with you in the first place," she said, "so don't start getting all morally indignant _now_."

"Do you think it's not killing me to call it off?" he snapped. "At least _you_ got something out of it. _I_ get to suffer through _this_." He pressed her hips to his, letting her feel all of him. "There is _nothing_ I wouldn't give to be inside you right now, and you think it's _easy_ just stopping?"

She jerked away from him, rolling off the bed. Her face was downcast, her hair obscuring her eyes. With one arm over her breasts, she scooped up the pajama top, shrugging into it as she turned away. It bothered him that she didn't want him to see her body anymore. His irritation dissolved immediately.

"Honey," he sighed, "come on, don't just walk away."

"Save it." Obviously hers hadn't. She closed and locked the bathroom door behind her. He sat up, running his hands through his hair, replaying the encounter in his head. What exactly had gone wrong, and how could he fix it?

When fifteen minutes passed and she hadn't reemerged, he began to think that maybe he'd _really _fucked up – made her a lot more upset than just arguing and irritation could.

She was sensitive, self-conscious, and completely unused to having frank discussions about sex, about anatomy, about anything vaguely intimate in nature. She would have been embarrassed not only to admit that she enjoyed his touch, but that she wanted to touch him. She might've tried to play it off as reciprocation to protect her fragile feelings, which he'd promptly crushed by berating her in a moment that he should've been concentrating on making special for her.

Probably she felt like he was teasing her, toying with her emotions. He'd been unnecessarily callous which had likely embarrassed her, humiliated her, made her feel more like a convenient body than someone who actually mattered to him. And now she was distancing herself from him to protect whatever dignity she felt he'd left her. He could've kicked himself. He'd done himself no favors – she was going to be as volatile as a bomb fragment, and about as easy to get close to as a wild Zu. And it was his own damn fault. He should've recognized her explanations for what they were – a defense mechanism.

He hauled himself off the bed, tapping lightly at the bathroom door.

"Honey?" He got no response, but then, he hadn't really been expecting one. "I'm sorry." Still nothing. He heard her bare feet pacing the tile inside. "I was stupid; I shouldn't have said what I did."

Inside, she turned the taps to the faucet, hoping the rush of water would drown out his voice. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to think about him. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole so she didn't have to die of shame and embarrassment.

"Rikku, please just listen for a minute, okay?" She didn't turn off the faucet, but he knew she'd be listening. "I'm sorry I hurt you, honey. I said some stupid things, and I'm sorry for them, and I would very much like to see you right now."

There was nothing for a few moments, and then the sound of rushing water vanished. He heard her sigh, and imagined her sitting on the cool tile, knees tucked beneath her chin.

"You _could_ just pick the lock." Her voice was soft, a little sad, a little confused.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I could." He, like most of the Al Bhed, went nowhere without a good lock picking set. He drummed his fingers against the door. He hoped maybe the fact that he wasn't intruding on her privacy would go some way towards healing the rift between them.

"I don't want to touch you anymore." She said it flatly, a statement of fact.

"I know," he replied.

"I don't want you to touch me, either."

"Okay." He knew it was a lie, even as he said it. She might be angry with him at the moment, but she'd get over it. He'd _make_ her get over it. It shouldn't be all _that_ hard.

He heard her fumbling around in the bathroom, and shortly thereafter heard the steady hum of his blow-dryer.

"I'm going to go find us something to eat," he called. Probably she couldn't hear him over the noise. It was just as well.

He rummaged through the pantry, searching for something, _anything_, vaguely appetizing to eat. Eventually he found a jar of bouillon cubes and some noodles and threw them into a pot filled with water he was heating on the stove. The pantry also yielded a sack of potatoes that seemed to be all right. He chopped some up and threw them into the pot. Then he scavenged the freezer and found a box of frozen garlic bread that hadn't quite hit its expiration date yet.

She didn't make her appearance for nearly a half an hour, and when she did he was disappointed to note that she'd redressed in her own clothes that weren't nearly so soggy-looking now. She'd obviously spent the time drying them with his blow-dryer.

She didn't look directly at him. She didn't smile. She just stood there looking intensely uncomfortable. Maybe he'd done a little more damage than he'd thought. Silently he offered her a bowl of soup. She took it hesitantly and retreated a good distance, as though she didn't trust him. Probably she really _didn't_ anymore.

"I thought you said you didn't have any soup."

"I improvised." He set down the plate of garlic bread next to her and took a seat at the opposite side of the table.

"It's good. Thank you."

He knew it was an empty compliment. The soup couldn't honestly be called anything more than hot and filling.

Her eyes were fixed firmly on her soup bowl and she didn't look up. Not once. He didn't like seeing her so unsure, so uncomfortable. And he _hated_ being responsible for it. He wished he could undo that last confrontation. He'd thought he'd known her, but he _obviously_ still had things to learn if he was fucking up _that_ badly.

"How about we watch some television?"

She jumped when he spoke, looking just a little panicked. Her eyes darted over to the small couch set opposite a television. Reluctantly, she looked back at him, lips pursed. It was a _very_ small couch.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said slowly. She pushed her chair back, taking her bowl to the sink to wash it out. She set it on a rack to dry and got herself a cup of water.

"All I'm asking is a movie," he said. "I'd take you out, but the weather's still a little too bad for it. Besides, I heard some pretty nasty thunder while I was making dinner."

Obligingly, lightening blazed outside and thunder crackled noisily. She didn't wince, but her fingers tightened a little on the mug she was holding.

"I'm not afraid of thunder anymore."

"I think you are, a little. I think you just try not to let people see it. I think _you_ think that being afraid makes you weak." He eased a little closer. "It doesn't. Everyone's afraid of something."

She scoffed. "Not everyone."

"Name someone who's not." He'd gotten close enough to reach out and touch her, but he wisely kept his hands to himself.

"Yuna. Pops. _You_."

"I'm afraid of lots of things."

"Name one." She sipped her water, the large mug concealing the lower portion of her face.

"I'll tell you if you'll watch a movie with me." He was a master negotiator.

She took a sip of her water, considering his proposal. Finally, she shrugged. "Okay, then," she said.

"Couch first." He stepped aside, giving her room to pass. She took a seat on one side of the couch, tucked up against the armrest, taking up as little space as possible. She grabbed the throw blanket on the back of the couch, wrapping it securely around her.

He sat on the other end, stretching out comfortably, resting his arm on the back of the couch. She could feel the heat his body gave off.

"So spill already."

"The Den of Woe," he said slowly. "That's what I fear. I still have nightmares about that place sometimes."

She could understand. That place had _seriously_ been creepy. She'd seen a lot of creepy things in her time, but nothing nearly so bad as the Den of Woe. That place didn't just take the cake, it took the whole damn _birthday party_.

"I think…I think I killed people there. I think some of the men in our squadron that died…I think _I_ killed them. Only the four of us made it out alive, and it's _my_ _fault_." He was staring straight ahead, and she knew he was seeing that place again how it was the last time he had been there. Probably she was the only person to whom he'd ever confided this very personal fear.

She didn't know how to reassure him. After all, it could be _true_. She had no way of knowing. Except that she knew Gippal, and she knew he couldn't have murdered anyone in cold blood. Probably he'd killed before – she didn't know, she'd never asked – but she knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn't kill unless his own life depended on it. The Al Bhed respected life in general – they didn't take it unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I don't think you did." She said it slowly, softly. "I don't think that's you, Gippal. I don't think you would have done that." She folded her hands in her lap. "I don't think even Shuyin could have made you do that. I think you're stronger even than Nooj and Baralai. I think that's why he didn't try to possess you."

He sighed a little, a self-reproachful sound. His hand stroked through her hair soothingly. "Why are you being so _nice_ when I was such an ass to you?"

She gave him a helpless look. "You're my _friend_."

He knew what she was saying. _This is what friends do._ _I trust you, so please don't hurt me._ _Don't make me have regrets_._ Don't make me lose my faith in you._

"Thanks, honey." He would never be able to explain to her how much he had needed to hear that it wasn't his fault, even if it wasn't necessarily true. He touched her shoulder, sliding his arm around her. She didn't move away.

It was a start.


	5. Chapter 5

She'd fallen asleep, her head tucked up against his shoulder, one hand resting on his thigh. She'd lasted only about half way through the movie before succumbing to sleep. It was still early evening, though the sky outside remained dark as night. The storm had not abated – torrents of rain still fell heavily on the rooftops. The room was cool; she'd cuddled up to him because he was big and warm and he'd offered to share a blanket with her, which now was tucked completely around her, cocooning her in its warmth. He didn't want to wake her up when she looked so peaceful and comfortable, particularly if it might cause her to decide she didn't want to share a bed with him, that she was still angry with him, that they were still on awkward footing.

She'd always been a fairly deep sleeper, so he had little fear of waking her up when he eased her off the couch and into his arms. She snuggled deeper into the blanket, her head tucked under his chin. It was the second time that night he'd carried her into the bedroom, only he hoped this time it would go better. Carefully he laid her out on the bed and untangled the blanket. She'd have to be changed; she'd never forgive him if he let her sleep in her clothes. He retrieved the soft, oversized pajama shirt she'd discarded, and began easing her out of her clothes. She awoke as he was buttoning her into the nightshirt, sleepy, disoriented.

"Gippal?" She reached out blindly, her eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness.

"Shh," he soothed. "Go back to sleep." He tucked the blankets up to her chin, making sure she'd be warm enough.

"Hmm." Her eyes closed and she yawned. She was groggy, her mind still sleep-fogged and hazy. "I'm…supposed to be mad at you, I think. I can't remember why."

He hoped she wouldn't remember until morning.

She turned a little, slipping her arms under the pillows. Her hair spread across them, loose and wavy. He wanted to slide his fingers into it, find out if it was as silky and soft as it looked. He eased onto the bed beside her, beneath the covers, and ran his fingers through her hair, combing soothingly through long, sleek strands.

"That feels nice." She shifted backwards towards him until her back touched his chest. She was probably just trying to share his body heat, but he couldn't help but to take advantage of it. He smoothed her hair away from her neck, kissing the curve where her shoulder met her neck. She made a little cooing sound, yawning again. "Gippal, what time is it?"

"Early still," he said. "You fell asleep during the movie. I tried not to wake you."

"Hmm." She turned her face into the pillow, tugging the blankets up to her chin. "I'm cold."

"I'll keep you warm." He curled an arm around her, dragging her against him, molded to the contours of his body. He enfolded her in his arms, holding her protectively. It was nice and warm and comfortable. She was still too sleepy to even think of protesting.

Lightning fizzled outside, and the distant boom of thunder raised goose bumps on her skin. She suppressed a shiver, ducking her head. But he knew. He'd always known when she was afraid, when she was trying to be brave and failing.

"Don't think about it." His arms contracted and he kissed her temple. "Don't think about it, honey."

"I can't help it. I…I just don't like the sound." That ominous crackle brought back frightening memories, memories of agonizing pain and sheer terror. She'd never liked revealing her fear to others; too many had laughed at her, mocked her. But Gippal never would. He was her friend, her champion. Her hero.

Thunder roared outside, making the window panes vibrate with its intensity. Rikku gritted her teeth, tensing. It was easy for him to tell her not to think about it, but with every crackle horrifying images rose unbidden in her mind. She could still smell her scorched skin, feel the heat and pain of the blisters that had risen on her flesh. She didn't _want_ to relive those awful memories, she just couldn't _help_ it.

"Don't listen," he ordered calmly. He turned her onto her back, settling over her. He braced his considerable weight on his elbows, then his big, warm hands covered her ears. Then there was nothing, no sound but the rush of her own blood in her ears.

He watched her curiously, watched her face as lightening illuminated the room for a moment, before plunging them both back into darkness. She didn't hear the crack of thunder that surely must have followed. It was relieving. He said something, his lips moved, forming words she couldn't decipher. With his hands blocking out the sounds, she couldn't hear him.

She watched as slowly his lips descended towards hers, watched until he got so close she couldn't focus on him, then felt his lips touch hers, warm and soft and sweet. He tasted a little like hot chocolate, and a little like something spicy and exotic she couldn't name. His warm breath fanned her cheek. He didn't stop with her lips – he kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. There was no part of her face that didn't receive his attention, and she wasn't sure she disliked it. There was something decidedly comforting about it, and she just wanted to melt into the blankets and let him kiss her. She was enveloped in his soothing warmth, secure in the comfort of his arms. She could forget about the thunderstorm, forget about their fight, forget about everything. Gippal would block out anything else, erase any unpleasantness from her little cocoon of security and warmth.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his lips on her throat, the delicate tickle of his eyelashes brushing her cheek. One of his legs nudged between hers. His hips rested squarely over hers. She moved restlessly, fingers clutching at his shoulders, then linking around his neck. Her bare legs slid across his hair-roughened ones, feeling the differences between them. Her skin was soft and smooth; his was muscled and dusted with a fine smattering of hair.

He sucked on her neck, nipping the sensitive skin, drawing a little surprised gasp from her. Her nails bit into his shoulders and she unwittingly pressed herself against him for one brief moment. Suddenly she felt the changing contours of his body, felt him growing hard against her. Her eyes opened wide, surprised. He was watching her, gauging her reaction.

She didn't know when exactly the switch from a comforting embrace to a sensual encounter had come about, but there was no mistaking that it had. She'd allowed it, encouraged it.

He was fairly sure she was blushing, but it was too dark to tell. She pulled her hands away from him, tucking them under her chin. He suppressed a sigh. Probably he'd pushed her a little too far again. She was still raw from their earlier argument, still wary of him.

He hadn't heard any thunder for a few minutes, nor had he seen any lightening. The rain still battered the roof, but it seemed the worst of the storm was over. He pulled his hands away from her ears, but her hair clung stubbornly to his fingers. Delicately he extricated himself from its clutches.

"I think it's over," he said, pulling away from her. "Go ahead and get some sleep. I'll take the couch." Probably she wouldn't want him sleeping with her after all. It had been foolish to hope she might.

Cold air assaulted her as he lifted away from her. He nicked a pillow from the other side of the bed and an extra blanket from the linen cabinet. She shivered, snatching up a blanket to wrap around herself.

He exited down the hallway, leaving Rikku all alone in the bedroom, in the dark. She heard the springs in the sofa creak as he lay down with a weary sigh.  
She curled up against the pillows, listening to the rain pelt the window. It wasn't very nice of her to let him take the couch when she had his rather large bed all to herself. The couch probably wasn't very comfortable, and it wasn't any bigger than her own. Too small for a man like him.

Though the blanket was thick and heavy she still felt cold. Her toes curled, feeling like ice. She shivered, her fingers clutched the blanket closer. It wasn't doing any good. She was still freezing. She was going to have to ask him to come back to bed, or they were both going to be miserable. Only, how would she do it without sounding like she was inviting him to _sleep_ with her?

She shook the thought away. Gippal would know she wasn't ready for such a thing, he always knew when she needed to back away a couple of steps before she was ready to move forward again. She thought maybe he knew her better than she did. He would know what she was asking.

She climbed off the bed, tucking the blanket around herself. She tiptoed down the hall, peeking out into the darkened living room to see if he was still awake.

"Kid, what're you _doing_ out here?" he sighed.

"I…I…" she grappled desperately for words. "It's still my birthday, isn't it?"

He glanced at the clock, its neon numbers glowing in the darkness. "Yeah, for a couple of hours anyway."

"Can I ask a favor, then?" She dug a little furrow into the carpet with her toes, fidgeting nervously.

"Depends on the favor." He shifted a little, uncomfortable on the small couch.

"I…I want you to come back to bed." She bit her lip, but stood her ground firmly. Let him make of it what he would, she was tired of constantly shying away from him. She had nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be ashamed of. She was just a girl asking a boy for a favor, nothing more, nothing less. "It's your bed, anyway. I'd…I'd feel bad if I let you sleep on the couch."

"I don't mind taking the couch," he said. "It's not that big a deal. Like you said, it's your birthday. Least I can do is let you be comfortable on your birthday, right?" He didn't move, except to draw his knees up so his feet didn't hang over the arm of the couch.

"I'd rather…I mean, I really don't mind sharing," she said. She hadn't anticipated his refusal, wasn't prepared for it. She stumbled over her words, trying in vain to get him to understand what she wanted without seeming desperate or needy. She couldn't do it, couldn't think with him watching her curiously like that, couldn't seem to make the words come. It didn't help that her teeth were chattering. Her courage deserted her. "N-never mind," she said. "Sorry for b-bothering you."

She turned swiftly, heading back to the bedroom. She didn't close the door behind her and he heard her crawling back into bed. A few silent minutes passed as he debated his next course of action. Obviously she was a little upset about something, though he had no idea what it was, or what part he had played in it. He didn't understand why she couldn't just _tell_ him what she wanted. He'd thought it would make her happy to have the bed to herself, to not have to worry about his attentions, especially if she was still angry with him. He sighed, hauling himself up off the couch and grabbing up his bedding, carrying it all into the bedroom. He dumped it on the floor and took a seat at the edge of the bed. She was buried somewhere beneath the blankets.

"Hey, Rikku?" He lifted the blankets, and her blonde hair spilled out over the edge of the bed. He slid his fingers through it reassuringly. "Are you okay?"

There was a muffled sniffle. She pushed away some of the blankets so she could see him. He settled his hand on her shoulder, surprised to feel tiny tremors shaking her.

"I'm _cold_," she said defensively, crossing her arms. Her lower lip was thrust out in a little pout that would have been adorable had she not looked so miserable. He brushed back her bangs.

"Is that all that's wrong? I'll see if I can turn up the thermostat a little for you." He hoisted himself up, but she caught his wrist as he was turning away.

"Don't go," she mumbled. She pursed her lips. "You said you would keep me warm. Please stay."

Finally he realized what she'd been trying to say all along. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed his pillow and blanket off the floor and set them on the bed. He lifted her blanket off of her, rearranging both blankets so they weren't all wadded up like she'd had them. Then he slid into bed beside her, forcing her to scoot over. He laid back and stared at the ceiling, wondering how to proceed. What was keeping her from asking for what she wanted? If she'd asked him to come back to bed in the first place, it would've kept whole charade from happening.

But then he remembered that she _had_ asked him. He'd just assumed she'd been offering out of a sense of obligation, that it hadn't been a sincere request. He'd shut her down yet again, inadvertently backed her into a corner. Probably she knew exactly what she wanted but she had no idea how to ask him to help her. Or maybe she just felt she didn't have the right. He didn't know, but it didn't really matter. She was going to have to learn to ask, and he was going to have to learn not to question her, not to assume anything about her motivations.

She inched a little closer and her fingers brushed his forearm. "Gippal, are you mad at me?"

It was said in a plaintive, fearful tone. He felt like an ass.

"No, of course not," he said immediately. He caught up her fingers in his, turning towards her. "Come here, honey." Gratefully she slipped into his embrace, reveling in the warmth of his arms around her, of the heat of his chest against her cheek. She drew up her knees, curling into him. He hissed when her cold toes slid up his leg.

"Your feet are _freezing_."

"Well, if _someone_ had come back to bed when I asked the _first_ time, they might not be," she countered, shoving his shoulder.

It was the closest she'd come to teasing him for a while, and it was definitely a relief. He hadn't done any irreparable damage after all.

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking her hair. "Sometimes I don't understand what you're really saying. And I can't really know what you want unless you tell me. But you asked and I made a stupid assumption, and I'm sorry for that. I'll try not to do it again." He dropped a kiss on her hair, feeling the cold strands clinging to his lips. "But, you know, it's okay to tell me what you want. There's a lot I'll do for you, honey, a lot that I would _love_ to do for you, but I can't read your mind. You have to tell me what you want. Okay?"

"I don't want to ask for stupid things like this," she said. "It feels too…" Too _couple-like_. And they weren't that. Not even close. She was taking advantage of his good nature, asking for things when she couldn't give him anything in return. It wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_. Maybe she could explain that to him. "It feels like I'm taking advantage of you," she said finally. "I don't…I don't _want_ to do it."

"You're not," he denied at once. "I want to do stuff like this. I _want_ you to think of me as someone you can rely on, someone who'll make you happy, keep you safe. It's true that I want _more_ than just that, but I don't mind waiting for you. I'll never think of you as a bother, no matter what." He linked their fingers and kissed her forehead. "I like this."

"What?" she mumbled.

"_This_." His arms contracted around her briefly. "You're warm, right?"

She nodded, fingers squeezing his. "Thanks," she whispered hesitantly.

He sighed, sensing her subtle withdrawal. He wondered if they'd ever move past her instinctual retreat, if she'd ever stop being uncomfortable around him. "Is it really so bad, honey?"

She shook her head. "No," she said softly. "It's not…bad." It was just…different. A kind of quiet intimacy she wasn't yet accustomed to sharing with him. This was something she couldn't rationalize, couldn't chalk up to him overwhelming her with passion, playing his obvious experience against her. She couldn't justify allowing this sort of thing, regardless of how nice it felt to be held.

"Hey, quit it." He pinched her cheek. "You're worrying again."

"I-I'm sorry." She curled her free hand under her chin, ducking her head down.

He sighed. Still she was backing away, again he'd somehow managed to make her feel guilty, ashamed of herself. Maybe he was putting too much pressure on her. He knew they were still friends, that although he'd shifted the end result of their friendship, the expectations of it, that they were still the same two people who'd grown up together, spent their childhood racing over the sandy dunes of Bikanel desert. He was still the same boy who looked forward to her visits with childish glee, and she was still the same girl who made him chicken soup when he was sick and fussed over him like a mother hen. But maybe she thought something different. Maybe she was afraid of losing the friendship she'd invested so much of her life in maintaining. He wanted their relationship to deepen, their bond to grow and mature, but maybe she felt she was being forced to exchange it for something new and completely alien to her, something she didn't understand, wasn't comfortable with.

"Look," he began slowly. "I want you enough to wait for you, however long it takes. I want you because I know how good we are together, how good we _could_ be together. I have confidence in that, that one day you'll understand that. But even…even if you _don't_…" It hurt him to even consider it, that maybe she _wouldn't_ choose him. "Even if you don't, I'll still want you, we'll still be friends. I said I'd wait for you, Rikku, and I meant it." He cupped her chin, lifting it so he could see he wide green eyes.

"I'm _not_ going away," he said. "I'm not going to let you run and forget about this. I _want_ you to think about us, to think of me as more than just a friend. I want to be more to you than that. But I'll still wait as long as you need, and I don't want you to feel guilty about it. When you're ready, you'll come to me." He had to tell her something to ease her discomfort, to soothe her fears, but telling her too much would hurt more than it helped. She'd turn tail and run away, and he knew it. He didn't want to scare her, to send her running from him again.

She wished she could be as certain as he was. She wished she knew of a way to get rid of the uncertainty and fear lurking in her heart. He was right; she was always running away from uncomfortable situations. Only she'd been running away for so long that she didn't know how to stop. And she'd gotten herself lost in some mighty unfamiliar territory filled with unknowns. It was a scary place to be.

It was scarier to think that being Gippal's girl wasn't an altogether unattractive idea. He was handsome and sweet and caring, and he wanted _her_. She didn't understand it, but he made her feel things that no one ever had before. He'd touched her in ways she couldn't imagine letting anyone else touch her, and she'd _enjoyed _it. And _that_ scared her most of all.

She wasn't sure of herself at all. She could wind up hurting both of them.

But Gippal was dependable – hopefully _he_ could keep both of them safe. Even from her.

- -

She was murmuring his name. The soft, breathy little whispers drew him slowly out of sleep. She moved restlessly against him, caught up in his arms and the tangle of blankets wrapped around them. He eased her onto her back, readjusting the covers, thinking that perhaps the heat had gotten a little much for her. Still she moved sinuously against the sheets, fingers sliding across the bed until they slid up and over his chest. Her touch was light and soft. He had little doubt that she was still blissfully dreaming away.

In her sleep she cuddled up to him, nuzzling his shoulder, sighing when he wrapped his arms around her. Her legs slipped between his. She was plastered against him like a second skin, mumbling incoherently near his ear. Through the thin shirt he could feel her peaked nipples against his chest. Obviously she wasn't cold. He had his suspicions that she was having one of _those_ dreams…suspicions he confirmed when he brushed her nipple with his fingers, and she let out a tiny moan. He did it again, and she shuddered in his arms, gasping with delight at the delicate caress. Deny it she might, but her body craved the pleasure he could give her.

But it was going to be hell enduring her unconsciously seductive movements, painful to try to ignore all those pretty little sounds she was making in his ear. Her questing fingers slid over his chest, brushing his nipple. He bit back a groan as she cooed in his ear, her warm breath making him shudder. Already he was painfully hard, and keeping her from touching him there was proving rather difficult. Finally in desperation, he caught both her wrists in one hand, gently pushing her onto her back. He stretched her out, pinning her down. The harder it was for her to move, the easier it would be for him to resist her unwitting seduction. Trapped beneath him, a little whine built in her throat when she could no longer touch him. Her brows knitted, her lips pursed petulantly. He contemplated waking her up just to save himself from the torture of seeing her stretched out beneath him, wanting him. She wriggled and her legs wrapped around his hips, arching against him with a little sigh. He felt like she'd knocked the wind out of him. His control promptly shot out the window. What could it hurt to give her what she so desperately wanted, as long as he didn't let it go too far?

With one hand he flicked open the buttons on her shirt, parting the soft fabric, kissing the soft, smooth skin he exposed. She made throaty, approving sounds as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicking his thumb over the other gently. She was so responsive, so passionate, just like he'd known she would be. She went to his head too quickly. As long as she was asleep, he'd have to tread very, very carefully.

- -

She woke slowly, twisting sensuously on the cool covers, caught in the remnants of some wildly erotic dream. Even now she could feel warm hands moving caressingly over her body. It felt a little too _vivid_ to still be a dream. Someone's hot breath fanned her stomach.

"Awake?" There was a soft, teasing nip on her hip. She drew in a soft, confused breath.

"I'm dreaming." But she knew she wasn't, not anymore.

"No, honey." His tongue laved a warm path down her stomach, kissing the joint where her leg met her hip. Then his mouth was on her, and she couldn't make the fingers that were suddenly in tangled in his hair pull him away. She writhed, thighs squeezing, heels digging into his back, eyes shut tightly, swallowing back a gasp. He sucked on her clit, working two fingers inside her. She arched against him with a little keening wail.

"Please, oh, please, _please_, Gippal!" She cried, pleading for something, _anything_ that would satisfy the aching hunger within her.

He moved up, forcing her hands from his hair to his shoulders. He kissed her lips, coaxing her eyes open. They were wide, desperate, wild. His fingers slid skillfully over her slick flesh, keeping her balanced on the edge of fulfillment.

"Soon, honey." He nuzzled her throat, laying tender kisses along her jaw. "Soon I'll be inside you, and I'll take you to heaven." He murmured the words in her ear, hearing her little sob, feeling her inner muscles clench around his fingers. "But not tonight."

"_No_!" She cried, fingernails carving tiny stinging crescents into his shoulders. "Don't…don't _leave_!"

His low chuckle rippled over her. "I'm not leaving, baby."

"Please, Gippal, I need…" _Him_. She needed _him_. His hands and mouth on her, his body in hers.

"I know," he soothed, pushing her towards climax, shoving her ruthlessly over the precipice, stifling her scream with his mouth on hers, murmuring nonsensical, comforting things to her until she stopped trembling in the aftermath of her violent release.

She was exhausted, weak, shaken. She'd let him do it _again_, and she couldn't even work up the energy to be embarrassed that she was still lying naked beneath him or that his hand still stroked her hip gently.

"I _begged_ you," she whispered incredulously, her face hidden in his damp throat.

"Yeah," he agreed pleasantly, rubbing her bare back soothingly.

"I _hate_ that," she said, pounding her small fist against his chest. "I _don't_ beg!" It frightened her that _he_ could _make_ her beg. It hurt her pride. She might as well have given him a stick to beat her with.

"It was great for my ego," he grinned down at her. She blushed furiously, shoving at his chest.

"Don't make fun of me!" She snapped, dragging the blanket up to her chin. She turned her back on him, peeking over the side of the bed in search of the shirt he'd taken off of her.

"Hey," he tugged her back, sliding his fingers into her disheveled hair, cupping her face in his hands. She glared, but he soothed away the little frown. "I wasn't making fun of you," he said softly. "Not about this, not ever."

She clutched the blanket a little tighter. "I don't understand you at all," she whispered. "Why _me_, Gippal? There's plenty of other girls that actually _want_ to go to bed with you."

"_You_ want to go to bed with me," he said. "You're just having a hard time admitting it."

"But why _me_?"

"You don't wanna know, kid." He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I do!" she persisted. "I have a right to know why you keep doing this to me!"

"I'm telling you, Rikku, you don't want to know." He'd called her by name, which he only ever did when he was absolutely serious about something. But she was undeterred.

"I'm telling you I do!" She shoved her hair over her shoulder, glowering at him.

"_Fine_." He kicked off the blankets and shucked off his pajama pants. She had very little time in which to be shocked before he caught up her hand and wrapped it around his cock, still so hard. Her breath hitched in her throat as he eased her fingers up and down the length of his shaft, the first time she'd ever touched that part of him with no fabric in the way.

"Feel me, honey. This only ever happens with _you_," he rasped. "I would give anything…_anything_ to have you touch me, _want _me. I'm trying so _hard_ to make you understand, to get you to see me as more than just a friend." His head fell back, his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted. She couldn't tell whether it was in pain or pleasure.

"I don't…I don't understand," she faltered.

"_I love you_!" He hissed. "God, I love you _so_ much, and it hurts like hell! I'm horny all the time, but there's nothing I can do because _you_ won't give me the time of day, and fucking another girl would be like adultery. No, don't stop." His hand cupped hers, urging hers back into the rhythm. "God, please, honey, don't stop now!" Now _he_ was the one begging.

His breath was coming in quick pants, and he looked anguished, fists clutching the covers desperately as her hand continued moving on him. It was strange to see him like that. It was the first time he'd yielded control to her, and she sort of…_liked_ discovering that she could make him as mindless as he'd made her.

But what could she do? She didn't know anything about it. Now that she'd gotten what she'd asked for just a few hours ago, she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

"You're gonna have to show me how to do this," she said hesitantly. "I don't know what to do."

"You're doing great on your own," he replied, but his hands caught hers, showing her how and where to touch him, how much pressure to use.

He'd put his mouth on her, there. Did men like that, too? She didn't know. So she bent down, stroking her tongue across the head before she could talk herself out of it. She hadn't known what she'd expected it to taste like, but it was just skin, slightly salty.

"You don't have to do that," he said hoarsely.

"Oh." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry." Maybe she should've asked first.

"Don't be sorry," he said. "I liked it. Some girls don't like doing that. I don't want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable."

"You did it to me," she reminded him.

"I _like_ doing it to you," he replied.

"Really?" Her curiosity was piqued. "Why?"

"I love you," he said, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I want to make you happy. Besides, you make the prettiest noises when you're about to come."

She was blushing again, and glad he couldn't see her. She bent down, finding a comfortable position, and swirled her tongue around him.

"Honey…"

"I want to," she said. "Really." And she closed her lips around him, sliding him into her mouth. He made a strangled sound, hands slipping into her hair. His clutching fingers helped her find the rhythm he needed, and she concentrated on the sounds he was making, discovering what he liked. It was strange, but oddly empowering to discover that she had the ability to make him like this, that he would willingly turn control over to her, that he would let her see him helpless and vulnerable.

Suddenly, his hands were pulling.

"Honey, I'm gonna come."

She didn't understand, but she raised her head, looking up at him curiously. Her fingers continued moving on him, and just seconds later she heard his hoarse cry – her name – and then felt his hands pulling her up the length of the bed next to him. Sweat was cooling on his chest, but his arms enfolded her tightly, and his lips touched her temple reverently.

"I love you," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just couldn't help it." He was afraid she'd panic, that she'd leave and disappear and he'd have to spend the rest of his life searching for her. Because there was no one like her, no other woman he wanted. It had always been Rikku. It always would be her. Even if she didn't want him.

She couldn't think clearly with him holding her so tightly. His intensity frightened her. He'd known all along that she wouldn't want to know something like that. It was one thing to _want_ her, and quite another to be in _love_ with her. Love meant commitment and forever and forsaking everything and everyone else. Why would Gippal want t_hat_? She couldn't fathom it, didn't understand why or how or _when_. And she knew that he'd been trying to protect her, to wrap her up in his affection and allay her fears, to slowly introduce her to the idea before telling her something like that. He knew her better than she knew herself. How had that happened?

"Hey, Rikku?" His fingers caressed her cheek. She turned her face into his shoulder. She didn't have to deal with anything now; he wasn't asking her to make any decisions.

She hoped.

He'd said that he'd wait, that he'd give her as long as she needed. She sincerely hoped he'd meant it, that he wouldn't be angry with her for demanding he explain himself. She was fairly certain he wouldn't be. He'd let her deny responsibility; he'd assume it all. Even if she never mentioned it, he would know how confused she was, how much his revelation had affected her.

He shifted a little, easing her back against the pillows in a more comfortable position. He let her clutch the blankets tightly around herself, let her curl up into a little ball. But he tucked an arm around her, curling his body around hers comfortingly.

"It's not going to change anything," he whispered. "I promise."

But it already _had_ changed things. She just didn't know what to do about it. Should she ignore it, pretend nothing had ever happened and hope that someday they'd regain their comfortable friendship? Or could she try to give him what he wanted and just…let him love her? She could do worse than him. He cared about her, and she cared about him in her own way. And it was nice letting him kiss her, letting him make love to her. Maybe it was nice _because _he loved her. Maybe his love could be enough for the both of them, at least until she had a definite answer for him, one way or the other. Maybe all he wanted from her was a chance. Maybe he really wasn't asking for more than that, for more than she could give him.

"Gippal?" Her whisper was so soft he almost didn't hear it.

"Yeah, honey?" He tucked her hair behind her ear, rubbing her bare shoulder reassuringly.

"I-I'll try." She drew in a soft breath, like she'd surprised even herself. "I can't promise you anything. But I'll try."

He knew what she was saying.

He slid his arms beneath her, gathering her up tightly against him. And she let him. She let him hold her, let him brush his lips tenderly over hers, let him tuck her up against him, let him wrap the blankets and his arms around her. And she knew he was happy – happy that she'd decided to give him a chance, happy that she was letting him hold her, letting him touch her. And really, when they were this close, this _together_, she couldn't seem to think in terms of him or her, and it was a little too easy for her to think in terms of _them_.

And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, after all.  



End file.
